The BestWorst Poem Ever
by Perry1
Summary: In the graveyard late one nightOur dear friend Spike was out looking for a fightNot to feed on human bloodJust to romp around in the mudIt wasn't really rainingIt's just that rhyming is a pain. ing.Keep reading, you know you want to


The Worst/Best Poem Ever  


  


  
Author: Perry  
Character: Mainly Spike  
Rating: PG  
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Joss Whedon and Mutant  
Enemy  
Summary: I wrote this, thinking I could write poetry. I can't. Yet it is  
still extremely funny. PG  
Author's Notes: Pretend it's supposed to suck

* * *

In the graveyard late one night  
Our dear friend Spike was out looking for a fight  
  
Not to feed on human blood  
Just to romp around in the mud  
  
It wasn't really raining  
It's just that rhyming is a pain. ing. Spike was hoping not to run into  
Buffy  
If he did, things might turn scruffy  
  
But of course, I'm the one writing this fic  
So you know I'll get a kick.  
  
Out of Spike and Buffy running into  
Each other, right out of the blue. "Spike, you're here," greeted the angry  
Slayer  
And for not getting his ass kicked, Spike said a prayer  
  
"And so are you."  
Spike sadly gave his choice of words a boo.  
  
"I'm patrolling, what's your excuse?"  
"Out looking to cook some poor demon's goose." "Cook a goose? Boy you are  
lame."  
"Oh yeah? Well for a slayer, you've got rotten aim!'  
  
Upon Buffy's killer stare  
Spike decided to get the hell out of there  
  
So he waved a feeble goodbye  
And back to his crypt he did fly Buffy shrugged, and went on looking for a  
vamp  
for killing them she was the champ  
  
But, even though she had killed a lot  
there was one she had finally caught  
  
But didn't kill, and you know why?  
Neither did I, her intentions are foggier than pie That doesn't make sense  
Which makes the atmosphere around me tense  
  
This poem sucks, I will not lie  
Oh, that was a better rhyme than pie!  
  
I should have used lie, but alas I did not  
But I should head back towards the plot Off to his home, Spike did run  
Buffy would get the ass-kicking job done  
  
So there wasn't any need for our Spike to battle  
Or for him and Buffy to continue their mindless prattle  
  
Spike sat alone at home, smoking  
While Buffy was out, causing some serious vampire croaking After a while,  
Spike began to get restless.  
He figured a fight was a bet at its bestesst.  
  
That's not a word  
Who cares? My thoughts are slurred  
  
Much like Spike's as he is smoking and drunk  
So all the other vamps thought he was just a stupid punk And they got out  
of his way  
Which sucked, because then he couldn't slay  
  
Them.  
  
He wondered if Buffy was still out on patrol  
For thinking of her, he called himself an asshole She could only bring  
sadness onto his good time  
And always prevented him from doing crime  
  
But tonight was his night to be bad  
And for her not being around, he was glad  
  
But then our hero Spike ran right into Ms. Summers  
Buffy, not Joyce you stupid bummers There I go again, using words that are  
senseless  
At the sight of Buffy, Spike felt defenseless  
  
Buffy immediately raised her stake  
But who she saw gave her head an ache  
  
She lowered Mr. Pointy  
and crouched down on her knee "We meet again," she said at last  
and once again I get to use the word ass  
  
Because that's how Spike felt afterwards,  
When he woke up later with those Scooby nerds  
  
For that night, Spike had been really smashed  
Not to mention how bad his clothes clashed But anyway, before the slayer,  
out he did pass  
And she just looked at him, sprawled out on the grass  
  
After a moment of contemplation  
Buffy picked the vampire up and headed back to her station  
  
And then that morning, in the shadows Spike woke  
With a pounding headache that was no joke The Scoobies told him about his  
funny drunken state  
And Spike remembered how much Scotch he had ate  
  
Or drank, I suppose  
It doesn't matter, this rhyming thing blows  
  
I might as well wrap up and go on to bed  
So, as Spike rubbed his aching head, He hurried back to his humble abode,  
Hiding from the sun by using a shadowed road  
  
Spike laid back in the safety of his lair  
Hoping never to again cross paths with Buffy, the Vampire Slayer  
  
And, I gladly end this dreadful poem  
But, cannot think of any word to rhyme with that, other than phloem. Oh  
well, this work is shot to hell anyway  
Perhaps I will perfect it someday  
  
Probably not, but that is okay  
Corny and childish it shall stay  
  
And, since my story has been over for a while,  
Stop reading this poem, it hasn't been worthwhile. In fact, that last thing  
only rhymed because it ended with the same word!  
That's the dumbest thing I have ever heard!  
  
Good lord, why can't I stop this madness of rhyming?  
Not only does the story suck, so does my timing  
  
Whatever that means, dear lord when will it end?!  
"Okay, listen here, friend." I turn to Spike, frantic for advice  
Spike smiles sweetly, "This is all very nice,  
  
But you should really just say that the story is finished  
That the plot has been diminished.  
  
Instead of continuing your insane ramble,  
Just say Done, and let the readers scramble To some sort of story that's  
worth bloody reading!"  
Spike groaned, with a hint of pleading.  
  
So, I take the advice Spike was so kind as to lend,  
And stop it all, with a simple THE END 


End file.
